Into the Gaze
by IAmTHEMovieLover
Summary: Charlie (Edward) and his little girl Isabella (Renesmee)struggle as his wife lays in a coma after getting into a brutal car accident. Their family supports and helps them as best they can. But in reality, everyone is losing hope that Talia (Bella) will make it- until someone comes into their lives that changes them. (WARNING: It gets angsty and more mature later in the story)
1. Chapter 1 - We

CHAPTER 1

"Isabella! It's time to go see mommy!" I called to my 4-year old daughter. I stood by the door with a green coat on my arm.

A red streak blurred from the top of the stairs and to the door. I heard her childish giggles in front of me as she tried to get her coat off of my arm. I smiled and knelt down and held it out for her to put her arms through.

"I think mommy is definitely going to be better today," her innocent voice chimed optimistically. She had a bright smile on her face -Talia's smile.

I nodded and smiled softly, not as hopefully as hers, though.

I opened the door and she burst out of it and straight to my silver Volvo. I unlocked the door and walked to the car. I opened the backseat door and Isabella climbed in and into her booster seat. I buckled her in before shutting the door. I walked over to the driver's side and got in.

We were off to the hospital to see Talia.

My name is Charles Lomin. But everyone calls me Charlie. I am 24 years old and I have a 4 year old daughter named Isabella. Her mother, my wife Talia, 23, had been in a coma since late August. It was November 4th now.

My daughter Isabella, her full name Isabella Mallory (the Mallory part from my wife's side of the family), was what kept me going. When I looked at her, I could see my Talia. She had my hair color, golden bronze (but her hair was redder than mine), and my sea green eyes, but other than that, when I looked at her face, it was all Talia. Some would say she looked more like me, but, despite the fact that she didn't have Talia's beautiful chocolate brown eyes or her brunette hair, I saw my wife whenever I looked at my little girl. Beautiful… gorgeous….. perfect. She _did _have Talia's light freckles and pale skin- and all the same facial expressions.

Izzy had exceptionally long hair, especially being so young. It hung in beautiful waves, half way down her back. When she was younger, her hair was in adorable bouncy ringlets. But as she'd gotten older, her hair had stretched out into waves, not straight, but not overly curly. Isabella had a lot of different nicknames. Man eater- because she was tough, red head, Melon (she loved melon, especially when she was a baby, it was practically all she would eat), Izzy, Iz, Bell, Bella, Mel, and countless others-but we mostly call her Izzy, and she absolutely hated being called anything girly, like princess- and she was tough, tougher than most little boys her age. She had anger issues that we were trying to help her get over, but she rarely had temper tantrums and rarely fussed. She only really misbehaved at the preschool she attended. Some things she did were girly, she had dolls, and she liked some pinks. It was rather confusing, I thought maybe it was a faze, but mostly she was a little tomboy, already- at age 4.

Izzy missed her mother just as much as I did. She asked me every day when her mother would return. What she knew was that her mother had been in a deep sleep for some time now. But I just didn't have the heart to tell her that she may not make it. But I refused to believe that myself, or even think about it, so I wouldn't have my daughter thinking like that either.

We were both very lonely, although I had my wonderful, loving adoptive parents, Peter and Loretta. They had adopted me when I was very young. I barely even remembered my birth parents. They had died in a car crash when I was little.

I also had my adoptive siblings. My sisters, Rachel and Taylor, and my brother, Dalton. I was the first adopted into the family, at age 3.

Then came the fraternal twins 2 years later, Taylor and Dalton, at age 6. They both had platinum blonde hair, Taylor still does, but Dalton's is dirty blonde now. They also both had and still have the same clear blue eyes that resemble the ocean.

Their mother had died during their violent birth and somehow, they still blame themselves. Their mother was 16 when she fell pregnant, and their father had abandoned her and the twins as soon as he found out. All we could gather was that her name was Dyla Marie Spencer.

I had thought _I _had a rough early life before I was adopted. I had only grown up in _one_ home, while Taylor and Dalton moved around every other month or so - And in horrible conditions. Then when they got to Maine at age 6, where we live, they were told they were going to be split into separate homes because of their age and genders. They were devastated, they were all each other had ever known and they didn't trust anyone besides each other.

Peter and Lo were also very devastated when they heard, and took them in. The twins were hesitant at first, it took my parents 4 months to gain their trust, but they were very patient. And about 10 months after that, they loved Peter and Lo and much as I did. They couldn't ignore the obvious love they had for them. And they accepted it. We got along very well.

Then 1 year later came Rachel at age 5. She had very dark, almost black wavy hair -now cut to her shoulders- and gorgeous hazel eyes. She was lightly freckled and very pale. She was also a little shorty, and very thin. We used to tease her all the time. But really, she was beautiful. She had that classical and natural beauty. And she had the most amazing personality. It was infectious. If she was happy, so were we, if she was upset, so were we. But really that applies to our whole family. She had been found near an old dump truck behind a factory, abandoned. She was only 2 years old. Nobody knew what had happened to her or who her family was. It's still a mystery to this day. And she is very annoyed and I think, upset, that she doesn't know. She still wonders if her family even loved her. I had more sympathy for her than she will ever know. She had lived in an all girls home until my parents found her and took her in.

My siblings and I were all fairly close in age. And we had great bonds. Peter and Lo loved us like we were their own children. So none of us ever felt like we didn't have a real family, because we did.

Peter and Loretta were and still are the most unconditionally loving and compassionate people I have ever met. Neither of them could stand to see a child in bad conditions and just stand by. I think that's how they ended up with 5 kids in less than 5 years. And Loretta was told early on that she would not be able to bare children. So she and Peter opted for adoption. They were 25 when they adopted me, and they were 46 now. They had met and fallen in love the second year of high school, and were married right after they graduated. Of course their parents were skeptical, but they were in love. That was all that mattered to them.

"Daddy, daddy!" Izzy's voice called me from my thoughts. "Can we see mommy yet?"

I smiled down at her and shook my head. Her pale pink lips turned into a pout on her pale heart-shaped face. Isabella looked so much like my Talia: the same face, the same smile, the same pale skin, the same laugh. The only thing she had gained from me was her hair color - my bronze hair, and my eyes. Though her eyes were big and beautiful like her mother's. Talia always argued that Isabella looked more like me, but I still begged to differ. She gained Talia's wit and love for reading, while she gained my "grace" as Talia likes to call it. If only Talia were here to see her daughter growing up so beautifully.

"Mr. Lomin?" A polite voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"Yes," I answered. I stood up and Isabella hopped off her chair and took my hand.

"Visiting hours are now officially open," she said, smiling hopefully at me.

I nodded and walked Izzy down the crisp clean hallways to room 517. My already trembling hands turned the cold metal doorknob to reveal the sight I've seen for the past several weeks.

The same boxy machines crowded around the white bed. The only sound was the beeping of the heart monitor - my only reminder that Talia was still alive. So many wires and tubes attached to her body. And there on the bed was Talia.

She looked the same as she first came in, only without the bandages. Her face peaceful, almost as if she was sleeping. Her hair sprawled all over her pillow, like a beautiful - now dull- brown halo. Wires attached to her forehead, monitoring her brain activity.

Talia has been in a comatose state for months now. She was a victim of a head-on collision. Luckily that tank of a trunk prevented her from being dead, but it also left her in this death-like state. She gained cuts and bruises, but they quickly healed. Now everyone was simply waiting for her to wake up and pick up where she had left off.

She'd shown no signs of waking up since the accident.

What is worse? The idea of losing your loved one or seeing them almost alive?

"Mommy?" Izzy called to her. She climbed onto the lonely chair that stood near her mother's bed. Her small frame leaned against the bed, to get closer to Talia. "How are you feeling?"

Silence, except the beeping of her heart.

I knew the answer: alive, but not conscious.

It absolutely broke my heart to see Talia like this. Unable to answer her own daughter; her own family. And to see this every time when we went to see her never made the pain better.

I could only imagine what Isabella was really feeling behind her smile.

"Guess what mommy?" Izzy asked with a smile. "I got an A on my spelling test! Now Daddy is going to help me on my math test on Monday! I hope I do better at math than you."

I had to chuckle at that. Talia was always bad at math even in college.

I was thankful that I had a daughter like Isabella. Most young girls would be crying and begging for their mothers to be there. But Isabella was so mature about this. So strong and so brave. She was really the light in this dark time, besides her grandmother Loretta. She continued life as if Talia was still awake or just taking a long nap.

I wondered as to why I was not strong like that.

"Izzy?" I asked, picking her up from the chair. I sat down in it and then set her down onto my lap. "How about we read a story to mommy together?"

She nodded energetically and smiled brightly. I pulled my messenger bag over for her to pull out a book.

I mentally groaned when she pulled out _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_. She's going to be craving for cookies after this.

"If you give a mouse a cookie...," Isabella read aloud. "...he's going to ask for a glass of milk."

A soft knocked interrupted our reading.

I was reading this time because Isabella fell asleep halfway through the third book. I was on fifth one. She was curled up against my chest sleeping peacefully.

I finally checked the clock. The hands were on 12 and 5. It was 5 pm.

We'd been here for about 3 hours already, time really did fly.

"Come in," I said softly to the door.

The door opened to reveal my father walk in. His blond hair shined under the fluorescent lighting. His grey eyes had worry swimming within them. His lab-coat trailed behind him as he wore a long sleeved white-button up shirt and black slacks. His black loafers scuffed the tile floor as he approached me, clipboard in hand.

"Charlie," his soft methodical voice traced with concern. "How are you feeling?"

"Just like every other day, Peter," I sighed. "Empty."

He gave me a sad look and put a hand on my shoulder. Peter and I were perhaps two of few who still opted to keep Talia on the machines. Others supported us when she first came in; however, as the weeks dragged on, hope started to become lost.

"You should go home to your mother, son," he suggested softly, so as to not wake his granddaughter. "It's been a while since you saw everyone. They're already home for the upcoming holidays."

"We wouldn't want to be a burden," I said softly - clear of any emotion whatsoever.

"You're our son, you will never be a burden," he stated the obvious. "I'll look after her and join you all for dinner later. Besides, you look like you need some rest."

He was right. I'd barely been able to sleep much. I was far too worried about Talia to think about myself.

I nodded and stood up, my arms holding Isabella against my chest. I placed her arms around my neck while Peter handed me my messenger bag. I leaned over to kiss Talia's cheek and then muttered a soft good bye to my father before I left the room.

I walked down the hallway, the only sounds were those of my shoes against the tile.

It took 15 minutes and ignoring the stares of several women to get to the parking structure. I sighed as I unlocked my car and placed the sleeping beauty into her booster seat. Couldn't those women get the hint that I had a daughter and a wedding band on my left hand? Society today is really dumbing down its inhabitants.

I got into my car and drove out of the parking structure and out of the lot without any interruption except the tollbooth.

My family was great at comforting us, and offered more support than I could ever ask of them.

Rach temporarily lived in an apartment with her husband and her two 4 year old twin boys. She was 21 and still undecided in her career. And obviously not the safest when it came to her love life, she was pregnant at 17 and absolutely refused to abort her children. Cal supported her 100%, as did my father as he helped her through her pregnancy. Taylor married as well and had her first baby on the way, and all at the tender age of 25. I had my Isabella at 20 with Talia, but we were married of course. I like to do things the traditional way. Taylor was a little more… out going when she was younger. But she _was_ married to her baby daddy afterwards, of whom she loved. Thankfully she wasn't pregnant until _after _they married. If they weren't, the whole town would be on them _and _my parents. No one could ever imagine one of Peter and Lo Lomin's children being irresponsible. Sure we all got good grades, but we weren't perfect. We were just like any other teens in town. But we didn't appear that way.

For some reason, everyone had pitty on "little Rachel" when she was pregnant because she was having _twins _and she was just a junior in high school. I personally think that people thought she was raped. But I never had the heart to tell my sister that that was probably the reason for everyone's sympathy.

But that we were safe and happy was all that mattered to my parents. Rachel was relieved of that after she broke the news to us. We were all very supportive of her. And Emmett was very good to Taylor, as Cal was to Rachel. So everything was fine. Emmett's name is actually Aaron, Aaron Emmett Carter. But we call him by his middle name. And sometimes we call Taylor Rose, because that's her middle name.

My brother Dalton opened a garage down town and practically worked every second of every day. He was taking a day off to join our family at the "big house" as we called it. It was a relief for us all that after we were grown, we were still in touch and not far from each other.

Right after our trip to the hospital to visit Talia, we headed to go meet our family. The drive to my mother's house was quiet, except for the soft playing of my Debussy CD. It would keep Izzy sleeping for a while. I glanced in my rear-view mirror to see my baby sleeping soundly.

She was sleeping so deeply that she didn't know we were at her grandmother's until I woke her.

"Sweetheart," I nudged her softly. "Grandma made cookies."

"Grandma?" she muttered drowsily as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. When she fully realized where we were, a huge smile found itself onto her face.

"Quick Daddy! Get me out!" she cried impatiently. "Before Uncle Em eats them all!"

I chuckled and reached over to unbuckle her from her seat. She bolted right out of the car and ran right to the front door. She banged her tiny fists against the door. I'm sure she could hear and feel footsteps approaching the door.

"Who dares to bother Emmett at cookie time?!" my older brother boomed loudly from behind the door (he was my brother-in-law, but I referred to him and Cal as my brothers, and I considered them my brothers). I did consider him my brother. He wasn't just _Taylor's husband_, he was very close to our entire family.

"Isabella!" my daughter piped happily.

I smiled as I got out of the car and joined my daughter at the front door.

When the door opened, we were greeted by Emmett and my mother, Loretta.

Emmett had curly brown hair and hazel eyes. His huge muscles were evident under his baggy white shirt and ripped jeans. He played in the NFL but decided to take a break for his wife, Taylor. He can be such a kid sometimes though.

He instantly ran over and scooped his niece up into his huge arms.

"If you give Izzy a cookie...," Emmett said, referring back to the book we read from earlier.

"She's going to ask for a glass a milk!" she giggled.

"That's right!" Emmett agreed as he carried her into the kitchen.

"Welcome home, sweetie," Loretta greeted me with a hug. She wrapped her thin arms tightly around my torso.

Loretta has caramel wavy hair that went past her shoulders. Her hazel eyes carried the love a mother and wife had. She wore a simple blue jersey dress over a pair of jeans. She was everybody's matriarch, no matter what.

I nodded before I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her temple. M y mother and I had always had a close relationship as well.

"Are you staying the night, dear?" Lo asked me lovingly as she put my coat on the coat rack.

"I highly doubt you would let me leave without staying the night," I chuckled.

Once she was done, she just had to ask that question: "How is she?"

I responded by shaking my head. That usually meant that things were the same.

She patted my back and didn't say anything, for which I was grateful. She quietly led me to the living room where the rest of my family was.

I saw my sister, Rachel, cuddled up into her husband's side, Cal, short for Calvin, of whom she was engaged to until they recently married, and they had known for 4 years prior. Izzy called him "Uncle Cal". Just like Emmett, Cal was already a part of our family and it was clear how much he loved and adored Rachel and nothing would change that. Good, she deserved a good man.

"Charlie!" she piped cheerfully as she ran up to give me a hug. Cal stood up to shake hands with me. He could be very reserved at times. Emotions were often difficult for him to carry out.

Rach's perfectly styled dark hair and twinkling hazel eyes matched her crazy personality, especially today, as she was happy for the occasion. She was currently an intern at a fashion boutique Down Town. I noted her designer jeans and her designer top. Always the fashion forward one. I swear, if you put the girl in a mall, it's as though she's on a mission from God to shop in every single store.

Cal is the perfect compliment to Rachel. While she's so overly energized, he's the calm, collected one. His simple blond hair and soothing dark eyes reflected his relaxed nature. He was always the laid back one while Rachel fretted over every little detail. He was currently a lawyer and worked on child abuse cases and defended those children. His light blue button up shirt hid his lean muscles and had on a pair of designer jeans as well. Rach always kept him well dressed.

Dalton, who was wary from losing sleep, was half sitting half laying on in the chair against one of the walls. He was on the edge of falling back asleep. So Lo sent him upstairs he could rest.

"Uncle Charlie!" two voices piped. Then I felt two pairs of arms wrap themselves around my legs. Children could seem so small, but that's only because I'm 6'1.

"Hello to you too, boys," I said as I patted the twin's heads. They both stared up at me with bright dark eyes.

Nicholas and Nathaniel, Nico and Nate for short, both had Rachel's dark brown hair, while their eyes were those of their father. Nico was the super energetic one and loved to play while Nate preferred to sit and draw more. Nico was the innocent one while Nate was the quiet scheming one. Yep, they were Cal and Rachel's children.

"I'm so glad you're here, Charlie!" Rachel exclaimed at me as I took a seat on the couch. "I just made the cutest coat for Izzy!"

I rolled my eyes and glanced over to see a very pregnant Taylor.

Before this baby, Taylor had the body and looks that women envied and were jealous of. She became a model for several magazines and photo shoots. She became pregnant and was currently on maternity leave. That was why Emmett chose to take a break from his football games.

"Do you know what it is yet?" I asked with a smile. There had been several bets within the family of what the baby would be. Rachel had always been right so I didn't know why anyone would bet against her.

"Nope, I'm keeping it a secret from Big Bear," she giggled.

"Did someone call my name?" Emmett asked as he walked into the room with a glass of milk. My daughter ran into the room with a huge chocolate chip cookie.

"Auntie Rachel! Auntie Rose! Uncle Cal!" Isabella chimed, surprised seeing her family.

Then, as if on cue, my father walked in.

"Good, everyone's here," he smiled at his waiting family.

"Grandpa!" Izzy cried as she ran over to hug his leg. "I got a cookie!"

"I can see that," he chuckled as he picked her up.

It really seemed as though nothing was wrong...but we were putting on these smiles for not only the children- because could children truly understand life or death or medical conditions this young? But really because Talia wouldn't want us to worry too much over her. But like Izzy, as well as I, we hid our pain well.

The only way for us to go back to our real happy selves, would be if –no- _when _Talia woke up. Peter was a doctor at her hospital, and took great care of her. I had no doubts about that.

"Daddy? Can you read me a story?" Izzy asked, holding a book in her hands. She's been going through my old collection of books since I was a child. She was in a pink pair of pajamas with white bunnies all over them.

"Sure, Mel," I smiled at her as I sat on the edge of my old bed. I was wearing a white shirt and black pajama pants. My hair was slightly wet from the shower I had just taken.

Izzy hopped up onto the bed with a purple book in her hands. She curled up to my side and handed me the book.

The book was entitled _For Every Dog an Angel_.

I remembered this book, Lo had gotten it for me when her old dog, Lucky, had passed away at 13 years of age. He and I had been best buddies and it literally destroyed me on the inside. Reading that book really told me that Lucky would be okay and that he was going to a better place. At least that's what my mother had me believe.

I opened the book to the first page. So many memories...

"Whenever a puppy is born on earth," I read the first page. "...a guardian angel waits nearby to welcome the puppy into the world and take it under her heavenly wings."

I saw Izzy become intrigued and amazed at the pictures and the words that followed them.

By the time I finished the book, my little girl was about to fall asleep. I set the book onto the bedside table and turned off the lamp. I tucked her in before going under the covers myself.

"Daddy?" she said softly. "Do you think for every person there's a guardian angel?"

I thought about it for a moment. If there was a guardian angel for every dog, why not every person?

"If the person needs a guardian angel, then they'll come," I answered. I already knew her thoughts.

"I hope a guardian angel comes and helps mommy, too," she whispered and then buried herself into my chest, as she used my arm as a pillow.

"Night, Daddy," she yawned.

"Night, Izzy," I said kissing her forehead.

_Good night, Talia _I thought to myself.

Before I fell asleep, I could swear I heard a howl to the moon in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2 - Silva

CHAPTER 2

The drive from Loretta's house to mine didn't take very long. Probably seven to ten minutes tops.

After having breakfast with the family, I decided that it was time for Izzy and I to go back to our own home. My excuse was that all of her schoolwork was at home and I needed to help her study. My family didn't object when they realized it was about Isabella and math - my daughter had inherited Talia's bad sense of math.

So after saying our goodbyes to everyone, Izzy and I got into our car and went home.

What I expected was a home without a mother, without a wife -without my Talia. I expected everything to be the way they were left when we went to the hospital yesterday: my stack of papers still a mess on my desk, Isabella's stuffed animals all over her floor, the sink full of the dishes from lunch, Talia's books left untouched in the library.

But there was something I didn't expect. A rusty brown either large dog or wolf lying patiently on my doorstep.

It watched me as I pulled up into the driveway. Izzy seemed intrigued by the surprise animal outside of the car doors. It must've looked like a giant stuffed animal waiting to be hugged. She had also inherited her mother's love for animals.

I mentally debated whether I should call animal control or handle it myself. But when I looked at the animal, it seemed very nonchalant while it just remained there calmly. Barely moving.

So I told Isabella to stay put as I got out of the car and carefully, slowly and cautiously approached the animal.

It didn't sit up as I approached it. It simply watched me with its dark brown eyes. As I was a few inches away, I held out my palm to it face up. Like I had known you were supposed to do when approaching an unknown animal. I couldn't exactly interpret the hidden meaning in its eyes as it leaned forward to sniff my extended hand, never breaking eye contact. After a moment, it stopped and just looked at me.

I still couldn't decide if he was a dog or a wolf. He definitely looked full wolf, but he certainly didn't act like one. He then sat up and began to pant. That was when I noticed something thin and tight around his neck. It looked like it was hurting him. It was sharp and silver, almost hidden by his thick fur. I then noticed it had a tag on it. It looked like the tag had been burned or something.

"Who do you belong to, boy?" I asked the dog softly as my fingers traced the engravings. I couldn't really make out the words, so I felt it. S-I-L-V-A. I felt the name SILVA engraved on the metal. When I turned the back, I saw a pair of intricately engraved and drawn angel wings.

"Silva," I said, trying out the name. The dog nudged its nose into my hand -replying to its name.

I watched as he stood up and slowly walked over to the silver Volvo and carefully stood on his hind legs, to get a better look at Isabella. I guess he knew she was there. A part of me was panicking because the foreign animal was close to her, but I had this strange feeling in my conscience that said I could trust this strange domestic or wild animal. Something told me that he wasn't a killer.

I could see my daughter squealing in delight at the animal just a foot from her. Silva's tail was wagging happily, and he woofed softly.

So I stood up and told him to go back a little -which he surprising obeyed right away- and sat patiently. I opened the car door and unbuckled Isabella and scooped her up.

I brought her over to Silva, who in return sniffed her and licked her hand. This left her giggling.

"_Can we keep him, daddy_?" Izzy squealed happily as she patted Silva's head, he didn't seem to mind.

I looked down at him and he was staring up at me with big, pleading and innocent eyes. I then noticed, despite his sheer mass, that he was clearly under weight. I could see his ribs. He also looked to be in pain because of the wire or cord so tightly wrapped around his neck. The least I could do was feed him and try to get that thing off his neck. He just looked so helpless. "I don't know sweetheart, this is a wild animal… and we've never had a pet before…" The only response I could think of. I sighed at her pouting face and then added, "But he can come inside for a while".

"Yay!" She squealed.

"Don't get your hopes up honey, no promises," I said before she got too excited.  
"I know Daddy," she replied very maturely.

I unlocked the door and Silva walked right into our home, as if it was his as well. We walked around the corner to the living room to find him lying in front of the fireplace.

Almost as if he had always belonged here, despite this being his first time here.

Why did I have the feeling he wasn't going to leave?


	3. Chapter 3 - Not What I expected

CHAPTER 3

Silva seemed incredibly tame. He continued to let Izzy pet him. We sat by him on the floor in front of the fireplace. He shied away when I came near him though. After all, I probably looked more intimidating than a 4 year old little girl.

"Where do you think he came from?" asked my daughter.

"I don't know, but I don't think he's from around here,"

After a few seconds, my daughter looked up at me with a confused expression and said "I though wolfs were supposed to be scary, he isn't, look" I had to laugh at the way she said "wolfs" instead of wolves. We still had to work on her plural nouns.

"Maybe he isn't a wolf" although I highly doubted that. He was huge, and could easily be intimidating if he wanted to be. He was bigger than little Isabella, and he had razor sharp teeth that could probably kill in seconds. I wondered if all wolves were this big - I had never seen one in person this close before.

Thinking about that just made me more nervous, so I tried to stop.

What if he randomly attacked? What if he was just playing this charade for now?

Right now he had his mouth hanging open with his big tongue lolling out the side. He was panting heavily, probably a result of the indoor heating. That shouldn't have helped fuel the fire of my mental image except for the fact that now that I could _see _all of his teeth. Whoa. Long and sharp, like I pictured.

_Breathe Charlie, breathe. _I mentally reminded myself.

I was probably just exaggerating things. I mean, he looked friendly enough, like how any other dog would I guess.

All this was starting to build up and give me a mental headache. I just then realized that the wolf was staring at me. When I made eye contact, he didn't look away. There was a weird expression in his eyes that I couldn't quite comprehend.

The only wild animals I had every seen in our small town were coyotes, and even those were a rare sight. I didn't even think wolves lived in this area. Maybe he had traveled from someplace else. He could've been escaping. If someone had owned him, they clearly weren't feeding him. I had no idea what to do.

"Daddy?" My daughters voice brought me out of it.

She giggled and said, "He's sleeping". You could tell by the tone of her voice that she already adored the animal.

I looked down at the mountain of fur and heard a faint snore.

How long had I been thinking? How long had we been sitting here? Time didn't seem to make sense to me anymore.

"Its time for you to go to bed, missy," I said and grabbed her as she squirmed and giggled.

I sent Izzy to bed. I told her it was because it was past her bedtime, even though it was Saturday. But really I didn't want to take chances. I was still hesitant about the animal in our home. She complained a little but then gave in.

I went through the kitchen drawers until I found what I was looking for, the pliers. Then I walked back to the sitting room where Silva remained in front of the fire, he was awake now. The noise must've woken him.

He looked up at me as I approached, lifting his head from his paws. Then he looked at the tool in my hand and began to whine noisily and scoot backward. Did he think I was going to hurt him with this? I wondered if his last owner had abused him…. That would also explain the tight "collar". I got down onto my knees, trying to look shorter and less intimidating. He didn't look like he had any defenses, he just looked afraid. I felt kind of bad for him.

"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you, boy," I said to him softly, trying to sound as calm and gentle as I could "I just wanna get that thing off."

I don't know if he understood what I was communicating, but the whine slowly left and he stopped moving. I carefully got closer until I was right in front of him.

I reached out and rubbed his shoulder, trying to further show him that I meant no harm. "See, I'm not trying to hurt you,"

He flinched when I reached for him though. I gave it a few minutes and his stance seemed to finally relax a bit. He flinched again when I tried to loosen the cord with my fingers, but otherwise didn't move. I tried to do it as gently as possible so I wouldn't cause him pain. He didn't do what I expected him to do. I thought he would growl or bare his teeth at me or something-like I had seen wolves on TV do. But he didn't. I then carefully slipped the pliers under and clipped. It took a few tries, but I finally got it off. The sight under it struck me and I gasped in horror. Where the cord had been pressed tightly to his neck, a deep, bloody gash was there. I just lightly touched it and he whimpered.

I silently cursed his owner. What would push the owner to go to such extremes? Didn't that person now what animal cruelty was?

Silva looked very relieved to finally have it off. He licked my hand several times. The feeling was strange, rough yet soft against my skin. Then he let me gently rub his fur where the wire had been. He didn't flinch this time. Then he put his head back down on his paws. I could feel some kind of significance in the action. It seemed like a sign of trust. Like maybe he trusted me a little now.

I got up and went back to the kitchen to get a cloth. I wet it and then headed back to the other room. I kneeled down in front of Silva again and started to clean the wound. He made a sound that sounded like groaning. When I did as best I could, I put the cloth down the laundry shoot. It already looked a lot better when it was cleaner.

I looked over at the clock, it was going on 11 PM.

I sighed. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to keep him. Finding his owner was definitely out. There was no way I would send him back there. And I couldn't just shove him out the door. That would be wrong. I had no idea what I was going to do. Keep a full-grown wolf? And with a young daughter. What was I _thinking_?! What if he was just calm like this because he was weak?! Would he attack when he regained strength?! Maybe my better judgment was against me because of the time. I'd think more about it in the morning. I stopped pacing and looked down at Silva again. He was still looking up at me, but he looked tired too. He was definitely not what I expected at first. I leaned down to pat his head and then said "I guess I'll see you in morning". I'd see what would happen in the morning.


End file.
